Gathering of Heroes
by Eugene
Summary: No Goku, no Gohan... Who's gonna step up now? New heroes emerge... Chapter 8 up... Read, Review... Enjoy...
1. Prologue

            It is a time of rebellion.  King Cold's empire has grown ever so greater, and his iron grip, just that much tighter.  His harsh influences have reached Earth and humans are now enslaved under his rule.  It is a time of rebellion, if only in name.  No human has enough power to even significantly injure a soldier in Cold's dark forces.  But the fight continues, regardless of how futile.  One thing, if the humans have nothing to be credited for, is that while their physical abilities may be horribly inadequate, their unbreakable will to survive makes up for it.  Almost.  And as everyone knows, "almost" only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades.

            So the search for a hero begins.  The Z-fighters, or what remains of them, seem to have disappeared off the face of the Earth.  The last time they were seen, Kurilin and Piccolo were the only survivors.  Now, no one knows of their whereabouts.  Perhaps they have been destroyed, as was Goku.  The rag tag group of fighters that call themselves the Resistance, for the lack of a better name, are led by a mysterious young man named Hope and a desert bandit, Yamcha.  Those two were the only people on Earth that could battle Cold's men and win.  Even then, they could not hope to challenge Frieza, King Cold's son and second in command.  So, all in all, the future of Earth looks pretty grim.

            _And it's getting worse everyday, Kami thought grimly, while surveying the grounds below from his vantage point on his look out.  __Perhaps not, my good friend, a voice rang in his head.  Kami startled as if he had been prodded with a tazer.  __King Kai?_

            _That's me, came the reply, a voice that Kami found to be extremely comforting despite it's rather nasal tone._

            _How are you doing?  Kami asked.  He didn't need to speak, since King Kai, the ruler of this particular galaxy, had the ability to communicate telepathically.  A god ought to have some special powers._

            The voice chuckled.  _Very well, I must admit.  Although these self- proclaimed emperors are__ beginning to get on my nerves.  You'd think they'd have a little more respect for the god of the galaxy.  But overall, I am doing superbly well._

            _I wish I could say the same, King Kai.  I wish I could say the same._

            King Kai's chuckle grew into excited laughter.  _Oh, and you will, my green friend.  You will._

            Kami squinted his eyes in curiosity.  _What do you have in mind, King Kai?_

_            Look, my guardian of the Earth, look I say deep into the mountains, not far from where Goku was first discovered and I think you'll be pleasantly surprised._


	2. Chapter 1: First among many

            A handsome woman in her mid-thirties and her ten-year-old son were walking back home after scavenging for berries.  This part of the planet, whether by divine intervention or simply by pure chance, has not been touched by Cold's influences and still maintained it's virgin beauty, the same beauty when Goku last resided here.  Both the mother and son were carrying basket full of berries and the son had a large fish slung over one shoulder.  They were talking happily about their upcoming meal when the ground in front of them exploded.

            When the dust had settled, the woman and her son laid their eyes on a strange creature that stood like a man but had pink skin and the head of a squid.  When he spoke, the whiskers on his lips wriggled like worms.

            "Well, what do we have here?"  The pink squid of a man stepped a forward menacingly.  "You know the King does not allow children to live.  Overpopulation.  You are in direct violation of the law."

            The woman spoke, disguising none of her disgust from her otherwise beautiful voice, "Your laws, your king, not mine."

            The man that was a squid glared at her for a second before darting forward to punch the child in the face, knocking him unconscious.  "My laws and my king just became your problem, bitch."

            He stepped forward to finish the job when the mother moved to block his way.  "Don't touch my child, or I'll make you very sorry," she growled.

            The squid man shook his head in disgust and swung his arm, knocking her aside.  The woman tucked her head in and rolled as her right shoulder hit the ground and fluidly got to her feet.  Taking no time to recover, she sprang forward like a cat, her fingers of her right and curled in like talons, slicing into the slimy skin on the side of the squid's head.  The squid man fell back as the woman landed on her feet and sprang forward again, this time, her left leg shooting out and catching the opponent on the right side of his head and spilling him on to the green grass.  Once more she landed and this time, swept out with her right leg and knocking the alien to his right.  She completed her spin and shot forward again and went into a forward flip, arcing her right leg down and her heel into his stomach.  Or would have, if the squid had not seemingly disappeared.

            The woman looked around in confusion when stars exploded in front of her eyes and she felt like a hammer had slammed into the right side of her head.  She rolled several yards before recovering and getting to her feet.

            "You'll pay for that, you bitch."  The squid man growled as he wiped at the three cuts her nails had made on his face.  His hand came away smeared with yellowish pus.

            "Bring it on," she hissed quietly.  

            And he did.  He brought it with such ferocity that the woman had no chance to react.  The alien led with his knee, driving it deep into her stomach.  He followed it with a vicious right hook that caught the woman's jaw, shattering it, and sending her spinning to the ground.  He stepped toward and picked her up with his right hand, clutching her throat.

            "I'll make you sorry," he growled.  In response, the mother spat out a mixture of saliva and blood that landed on his face.  The alien exploded in anger and slammed her into the ground repeatedly then hurled her against a tree where she collided and slid to the ground lifelessly.  A sigh escaped her lips as her head rolled forward as if it weren't attached by bone and muscle at all.

            The alien soldier stalked over to where the child lay unconscious and picked him up by the back of the neck.  Still holding him, he walked over to where the woman lay and stood over her and screamed.

            "Open your eyes, you filthy whore," he growled.  He gripped the boy's head as if to twist it and snap his neck off.  "Watch as I pulverize every bone in his neck and listen to him scream.  And know that you have failed."

            The muscles in the alien soldier's arms bunched, but before he could twist the boy's head, stars exploded in front of his eyes.

            "What the..." The aquatic alien did not get a chance to finish as an uppercut driving into his stomach forced all the air out of his lungs.  He gasped and waited for his breath to return.  When he finally looked up, he saw a young man of purple hair, perhaps 20 years old, standing over him.  He had on loose fitting pants and boots.  He wore a black tank top underneath a jean-jacket.  A black strapped across his chest led to a sword in its case slung over the young man's back.

            "You..." the soldier growled before the mysterious young man kicked him viciously in the side of his head.

            When the purple-haired man with a sword spoke again, it was like the quiet sea after a storm.  "You, who would have broken a helpless child's neck, who nearly killed a defenseless woman, will now know the pain you were about to inflict on others."  After a moment's hesitation, the mysterious defender picked the alien up and ferociously hurled him into a nearby tree.  Without waiting any longer, he opened his hand and faced his palm outwards toward the broken soldier and fired a ki-blast, an energy blast, at him, incinerating the body and the tree behind it.  Then the young man walked over to the fallen woman.

            "Shhh. you're okay now," he spoke to her softly.

            The beautiful woman opened her eyes.  "W... who are you?"

            The man calmly answered, "My name is Hope.  I'm a friend."

            The purple haired young man was standing in a darkened room in the barracks.  At first glance, he may have looked like he was just surveying the landscape, standing with his feet shoulder width apart, hands clasped at the small of his back.  But he was not looking outside the window that he faced.  In fact, he was not looking at anything at all.

            _So, what was so important, Kami, that you rushed me so, to that secluded part of the forest?  he asked silently.  His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration as he waited patiently for an answer._

            _Because, Hope, he may be the one that can save us all.  He may be the One._

            _He may__ be the One, or he is __the One?_

            There was a moment of silence.  Hope thought that it might have been a moment of hesitation.

            _He is __the One.  I'm sure of it._

_            Hope sighed.  __So, what do you want me to do now, Kami?_

_            You must take him to see Mutenroshi._

_            Hope raised an eyebrow.  __He may be the savior of the human race and the one person you could think of to train him was Master Roshi?_

_            Remember that Roshi was the one who trained Goku, earlier in his life, and he didn't turn out too bad._

_            "That's an understatement," Hope mumbled.  He had read about Son Goku, the greatest warrior that ever lived, and the greatest hero of all time as well.__  He turned his attention back to the guardian of the Earth.  __Well, I'll do as you say, Kami, but I hope you're right about this._

            _Oh, I am, dear boy.  I am.  The voice echoed quietly in Hope's head._

            The young boy who had been knocked unconscious finally came awake.  When he looked around, he saw that he was in a dimly lit room; no windows, only a sterile white bed that he was sitting and a giant metal door.  The walls were somber gray, and the rust stains in the corners and the occasional cracks gave the room a sense that it was less a room than some sort of storage space.  There was, however, one more thing that was noticeably missing.  _Mom?_

_            The young child thought hard.  The last he had seen her was when that purple alien showed up.  Whoever that was, his mother didn't seem too happy to have met him.  As a matter of fact, the freak didn't seem too happy either.  Which reminded him of the dull ache in his jaw.  Whatever that thing was, it packed a hell of a punch, and it had knocked the boy out cold.  __So, where's my mom?_

            A hiss at the door snapped the boy out of his reverie.  He turned his attention to the metal door that caught his notice.  Through it stepped in a young man, solidly built, dressed in a black tank top, jean jacket, and loose fitting pants.  Slung across his back was a sword that the boy decided was certainly dangerous.  _Whoever he is, he is comfortable with that sword and knows how to use it like a magician knows his wand.  He has no doubt.  But where is my mother?_

            When the young man spoke, his voice was like cool granite but also inviting enough that the boy felt an instant liking to the man.

            "How are you feeling?"

            "Fine," the boy replied quietly.

            "Perhaps I should introduce myself," the young man in the jean jacket said, brushing his purple hair out of his eyes, "my name is Hope."

            "Where is my mom?"

            Hope didn't seem to have heard him.  Instead, he continued in the same quiet tone.  "What's your name?"

            "My name is Kail."

            The purple-haired boy took in a deep breath let it out in a drawn out sigh before he began again.

            "Now, about your mother…"


	3. Chapter 2: The Mentor

            The green skinned warrior removed his cloak and turban.  He levitated himself to beneath the rushing waterfall and held himself in midair despite the water crashing down on him.  He closed his eyes and let his eyeballs roll to the back of his head and let his mind sink into a state of calm.  Relishing the ice cold water against his skin he took in a deep breath over a period of eight counts, held it for five, and let it out over a count of seven.

            The warrior repeated this process several times as he felt his physical body become part of the waterfall, the pressure now meaningless against his shoulders.  His mind cleared of concerns regarding his physical being, he stretched out with his senses, aided by his ki, or energy and let his essence touch everything in the environment surrounding him.

            He felt the trees and the flowers and the insects that inhabited them.  He felt the individual grass blades, the rocks and stones.  Even the stray droplets of water, spraying the air nearby did not escape his notice.  He noted the changes in the air currents, and every breath of every creature in the vicinity.  As he fell deeper into his trance, he began to notice the flow of ki from each and every life form in his surroundings.  He traced the intricate ki patterns that life created, more intricate than any spider web; more defined than anything he had ever known.  He took refuge in the web of energy and rested there, letting his consciousness meld with his subconscious.

            He would have succeeded, as he did many times before, had he not been interrupted sharply by a decidedly nasal voice.

            _Hello!  Anybody home?_

The warrior lost his concentration and with it his precarious perch in the air.  The force of the water, crashing down at a hundred pounds per square inch, shoved him down to the ground viciously, threatening to drill him into the hard rocks below.

            He quickly regained his mental balance and forced his ki around him, creating a bubble, letting the water sheet down the surface of the sphere.  He caught himself in the air, just inches away from the rocks and grimaced furiously.

            _Kai!_

_            That's _King_ Kai to you, sir,_ the voice rang in his head.

            The green warrior flew out from under the falling water and glided to his cloak and turban.  He put them on and frowned agitatedly.

            _What do you want, you diminutive excuse for a god?_

            _That really hurts, my friend, coming from you.  Is that any way to speak to your former master?_

            _You were never my master, _the warrior growled in his head.

            _That can be debated, Piccolo._  The voice paused before starting again.  _You were under my tutelage when you made that short trip to the Other Realm._

            _I was on your planet, but you never taught me anything,_ he shot back.

            _Figures that would be the thanks I get from you for my hospitality._

            _All your training did nothing for Goku; he still died.  _He growled mentally._  There was no reason for me to believe that your training me would prove otherwise._

            King Kai's voice came back strong but indignant.  _It was hardly my fault that Goku died.  But I have a plan that will lead to vengeance and finally justice for the evil done to him and the rest of the universe._

Piccolo sighed resignedly.  _What will you have me do?_

            Piccolo walked through the gates to the greatest martial arts tournament in the world.  _Tenkaichi Boudokai: the last time I was here was when I faced Goku.  Never have I met such a worthy foe, before him or since his passing._  King Kai had suggested that he come here and observe the tournament.  He said Piccolo would find here the latest fighter for the resistance, a fighter that would ultimately assume almost great a part in the destiny of the universe as the prodigy that Hope had discovered.  Piccolo had registered himself as a fighter, despite King Kai's strongest discretions.  King Kai feared King Cold's men finding out about Piccolo and eventually the plans for the rebellion.  Piccolo had argued that there was no way they could keep the recruiting and the training secret for long.  And Piccolo counted heavily on King Cold being arrogant enough to overlook the tournament entirely.  Earth was not the source of the most powerful beings and King Cold had no reason to believe that Earth threatened his Empire in any manner.

            The strongest factor, however, in his deciding to participate in the tournament was his own curiosity.  It had nothing to do with the personal combat; he knew he'd see more than enough fighting eventually.  It had more to do with his wanting to find out just how good this kid was.  So, he entered himself in the tournament, King Kai's advice be damned.  _If this kid is as good as King Kai hopes, it will certainly be worth fighting him._

Piccolo looked over the contestants gathered at the tournament.  There were no weight or age classifications, so it was an open tournament.  The rules were simple; if you could knock out an opponent for ten counts or more, you won; if you knocked him out of the ring, you won.  The fighting ring, or area, was a large square stage, surrounded on four sides by a moat; if you landed in the moat, or touched any part of anything that was not a part of the ring, you automatically lost the fight.

            Killing your opponent was discouraged and any time that happened, the perpetrator was immediately disqualified.  The tournament had been on going, and there was a lot of bad blood between the opponents, so deaths, although discouraged, were altogether rare.

            The participants moved through a simple ladder format, single elimination.  To save time, the entire group was divided into 4 different divisions each with 8 sub-divisions, with 64 fighters in each sub-division.  All the fights ran concurrently, over a course of 5 days, until a champion was decided in each division.  Then, after a day's rest, the opponents were matched up against each other by drawing numbers.  The 32 contestants fought on the main stage in front of a crowd upwards of 200,000 people.

            Over the course of 2 days, the two finalists were decided.  They were given another day's rest, then gathered to fight the final battle.  The winner not only took home the glory of winning, but also a trophy and a million dollars in prize money.

            As Piccolo looked around the stadium where the fights would take place, his sharp Namekian eyes caught a glint of light bouncing off a shaved head.  His lips curled up into a smirk.  _Everybody's crawling out of the woodwork now.  If anything is going to happen, it's going to be the biggest thing since Cold's invasion of Earth._

            King – _well, Emperor, now _– Cold had sent 4 saiyans to Earth in an attempt to take over the planet.  The very first was Goku, known then as Kakarrott, who had been sent as a baby.  The saiyans had expected Goku to grow up, then take over the planet, as so many other saiyan children did.  Goku took an unlikely fall and hit his head.  He was then found by an old man named Gohan, who took the alien baby into his care and brought him up.  Gohan taught the young child to fight and 17 years later, the saiyan fought Piccolo in the Tenkaichi Boudokai.  Five years later, another saiyan warrior arrived to finish the job that Goku was supposed to perform.  Piccolo had teamed up with Goku to defeat the invader who turned out to be Goku's older brother.  The saiyan warrior, Raditz, had warned them of two more saiyans that would arrive.  The saiyans were more impressed with the presence of the Dragon balls on the planet than anything else.  Regardless, Piccolo and Goku had killed Raditz.  Goku also died in the process, sacrificing his own life to save the planet.

            A year later, the two saiyans arrived, both much stronger than Raditz.  They were Vegeta and Nappa.  Nappa alone defeated many of the Z-fighters, including Gohan, Goku's son, who after being kidnapped by his uncle Raditz, was trained personally by Piccolo in preparation of the arrival of the two saiyans.  Everyone fought valiantly, but in the end, it was just too much, and many of the Z fighters were killed.  Goku was then wished back, after having trained with King Kai, the greatest martial artist in the universe.  Even after learning Kaioken, a special technique that boosted one's abilities significantly, Goku turned out to be no match for the saiyans.  After a long battle, Goku, Earth's last hope, was defeated, and the saiyans then easily took over the planet.  Piccolo, having survived the attack, personally found and destroyed the seven dragon balls, to prevent the saiyans from getting their hands on them.

            _That was over 10 years ago.  I haven't seen any of the survivors since the final battle, and now, all the forces are coming together; like the gathering of clouds before the storm.  Whatever happens, it's going to be huge, and likely as not, will change the future of the planet.  We'll only get one chance at this, so none of us can afford to fail._

            Piccolo's thoughts were interrupted by the voice of the announcer ringing over the PA system.

            "Would all combatants please move to their designated area for the beginning of the Tenkaichi Boudokai.  The competition will begin in 15 minutes."

            Everyone in the area began moving in different directions, making their way to their respective arenas.  Piccolo also started to move to his own area.  He slipped through people easily, avoiding contact at every turn.  He arrived at his ring in a matter of minutes.  He waited in the competitor's area while waiting for his match to begin.

            "The first match will be held between Taoka Norumi and Daimou Piccolo Jr."  The announcer noticeably tripped over Piccolo's title, having recognized it from the previous tournament.  Piccolo allowed himself a small smile at his notoriety and the fact that it had lasted until now.  Having more or less disappeared completely after the saiyan invasion, he was able to escape King Cold's notice, but it still felt good to be remembered by some.

            Piccolo stepped on to the ring effortlessly and walked to the center of the ring.  There he faced his opponent.  He was a large man, at least a full head and a half taller that the Namek himself, and bulging with powerfully corded muscles.

            The larger man scoffed when he saw Piccolo.  "What is this?  I have to fight a lizard?"

            _I'm far from a lizard, you ignorant Earthling.  Piccolo merely smiled contemptuously and waited for the official to start the fight._

            When the official signaled for the fight to begin, the human facing him stole forward with unbecoming grace.  Piccolo almost pitied the other man as he realized the arrogant man had no chance of defeating him.

            The larger man swung his large fist at Piccolo's head in an attempt to take the head off clean, but Piccolo easily ducked the right hook.  The human followed with a left roundhouse kick, but Piccolo stepped back to dodge the attack and returned to the same spot.  To the other man and the spectators, it seemed as if he'd not moved at all.

            Frustrated, Taoka Norumi clenched both his fists together and brought it down with punishing force on top of Piccolo's head.  Piccolo sidestepped to his left with blinding speed and reached up with his right hand.  He caught the bigger man by the throat and lifted him up cleanly off the ground.

            "A lizard," he growled, "could not do this, could he?"  He walked over to the edge of the ring and held the gagging man over the out-of-bounds area.  He snarled at him in a vicious voice, "If you are the epitome of human development, I hold out very little hope for your species."

            With that final comment, Piccolo let the man drop.  As he was falling, Piccolo whipped a spinning hook kick at the man's head, nailing him and knocking him out cold.

            "The match is over, the winner is Daimou Piccolo Jr.!"

            Piccolo walked calmly over to the announcer that stood at the edge of the ring.  He looked the nervous man evenly and spoke to him in a very quiet voice.  "It's just Piccolo, now."  He even smiled at the man.  "I think you need to go over to Section D subsection 3.  There you'll find another one of our old friends.  I need you to tell him, his favorite Demon King says hi."

            The trembling announcer barely managed to get out a meek, "Yes."  Piccolo, now satisfied, turned to return to the waiting area.  On the way there, a decidedly nasal voice rang through his mind.

            _Piccolo, if you're not terribly busy, go over to Section B subsection 4.  You'll find our latest recruit there._

            Piccolo sighed audibly.  _All right, King Kai, let's find out what this kid can do._


	4. Chapter 3: The start of the Fellowship

            Akira Shin leaned against the wall behind him.  He allowed the sterile coldness of the wall to suck the heat from his body.  His heart was trembling with nervousness.  The young boy reflected on the events that got him here.

Orphaned at the age of twelve, he moved in with his uncle on his mother's side.  They took good care of him, and being comfortably wealthy, made sure that he wanted for nothing.  He lived there until he was 18 years old, whence he began his studies at a local university.  There he met a girl.  Not long thereafter, he had developed a tremendous crush on the girl.  He'd always been a charming character and was never short of female friends but this girl had stolen his heart.  Akira soon found out that the girl's boyfriend was a famous martial artist, Aiko Maru, who would be participating in the Tenkaichi Boudokai.

The girl had suggested that it'd be great to see Akira fight in the tournament.  

Boys of any age, whether they be eight, eighteen or eighty, would stop at nothing when it comes to impressing a girl.  It was no different for Akira.  He began taking every possible martial art classes he could.  Over the course of six months, he had gained knowledge in Tae kwon do, Kung Fu, Tai Chi Chuan, and a rare martial art, Capoeira.  After training intensively for six months, Akira grew to love martial arts and the competition and the sense of accomplishment that it provided.

Sitting in the competitor's area, Akira anxiously waited for his fight to begin.  As luck would have it, Akira was matched up with Maru in his first fight.

Akira leaned his head against the cool marblestone.  _What exactly __were you thinking about, when you decided to enter the tournament?  You should have withdrawn as soon as they asked you to sign the contract about sustaining injuries._

The eighteen-year old glanced nervously at the gate, which lead to the fighting area.  Maru was already waiting at the gate, looking focused and ready.  Not at all how Akira felt.  Here he was, risking his life for a girl he hardly knew.  For the fiftieth time that day, Akira questioned his own sanity.

His train of thought was interrupted by the announcer's voice that rang clearly through the arena.  

"We'll begin our fifth fight in this subdivision, between Akira Shin and Aiko Maru!"

The crowd roared at the mention of Maru's name.  He was well known as a martial artist and his rakish good looks had won him a number of female fans.

As the two fighters faced off at the center of the ring, Akira could not help but feel self-conscious.  Maru stood at an even six foot, 200 pounds of steely muscle.  His sleeveless navy blue tank top outlined the powerful muscles.

Akira himself stood at a stretched 5' 11", and a lean 155 pounds.  He wore a plain white pants and a loose fitting sleeveless shirt.  The smaller boy realized then that he had really no advantages that he could exploit.

The realization came too late, however, as Maru quickly closed the distance between them.  Akira lowered into a fighting stance with both hands up for defense, but before he could react, Maru had already nailed him in the side of the head with a roundhouse kick.  Akira reeled back, dazed from the blow.

            Even before he could regain his balance, Maru dug in like a vicious predator and fired a hard jab into Akira's ribs.  His whole left side burned from the blow, but was quickly replaced by a shooting pain in his neck as Maru followed with the punch with a chop.

            Akira had already begun to fall, but Maru helped the motion by sweeping his left leg up in a wide arc and bring it down with crushing force upon Akira's head.

            Akira lay on the ground, downed in less than a minute.  He tasted his own blood, salty in his mouth.  He spat out the red liquid and pushed himself up, disregarding the pain in his head.

            He shook his head to clear it, but as he did so, he was struck again, this time by a spinning hook kick, to the right side of his head.  As he began to fall again, he felt himself being grabbed by the front of his shirt.

            "I know why you came here to fight," Maru spoke quietly.  His growling voice raked at Akira's ears and rang painfully through his head.  "I know you came here to impress my girlfriend.  By doing that, you've disgraced the world of martial arts, so I think no one will be as embarrassed as you will be today."

            The next 30 seconds were the most painful moments of Akira's life.  He knew no two hits really landed at the same time, but after the first blow, it was difficult to distinguish which blow landed first or where they landed.

            Eventually, Akira was thrown to the ground like a discarded rag doll.  He struggled to get back up, but Maru's cold voice cut him down.  "Don't bother getting up again.  You can't even defend yourself.  You're an embarrassment, and failure as a martial artist."

            The count had started against him.

            "One…"

            _He's right, I did__ start martial arts for all the wrong reasons._

_            "Two…"_

            _But somewhere along the line, it came to mean more to me than just impressing some girl._

            "Three…"

            _I didn't enter this tournament to just impress a girl; I needed to find out how far I've come as a martial artist._

            "Four…"

            _I can't do that if I let him beat me here and now._

            "Five…"

            _I can't do that if I quit._

            "Six…"

            _I really will be a failure if I gave up here._

            "Seven…"

            _I did start for all the wrong reasons._

            "Eight…"

            _I refuse to stop for all the wrong reasons._

_            "Nine…"_

            "No!" Akira screamed as he pushed himself up.  He glared hard at his opponent.  "I'm going to be a martial artist, and you'll not stop me now."

            For a second, Maru seemed impressed.  That passed quickly however, as he sprinted again at the bruised fighter in front of him.

            This time, Akira found himself more focused than he had before.  He read Maru's intentions and saw the first attack come in.

            _Right hook!  Here it is!_

            Akira stepped back and down, letting the strike swing harmlessly over his head.  He sprang back up and tagged his opponent in the side with a short right jab.  Maru recovered quickly and stepped back.  He aimed a high left roundhouse at Akira's head, but Akira was able to react.  As the foot threatened to make contact, Akira swung himself down on his left arm and countered with a most unusual maneuver.

            He planted his left arm firmly in the ground, and swung his legs up, balancing himself on one arm.  He crunched his abs and shot his legs up, kicking Maru in the face.  Maru reeled back and Akira pressed his advantage.

            He stepped down and shot forward, this time coming in with a tornado kick aimed at Maru's head.  Maru was able to duck under the kick, but Akira continued with his momentum, finishing a full rotation and throwing himself down into a handstand, then whipping his legs down, driving his heel into the back of Maru's head and dropping him to the ground.

            Maru quickly got up and shot forward, quickly tagging him with a straight jab, then shot a snap kick into Akira's knee.  He grunted in pain and collapsed around that leg.  Maru, seizing the opportunity, whipped a roundhouse at Akira's face, spinning him around.

            Akira dropped lifelessly to the ground and every fiber of his being told him to stay there.  He wiped futilely at his face, trying to clean up the blood, but there was too much.

            Maru turned to walk away as the count reached six.  All common sense and reason told Akira that he should stay down, but he couldn't help feeling desperately worried and anguished at not being able to get up.  Fear seized him completely as Akira fiercely dreaded the count reaching ten.  Driven by irrational fear, he shot up, just as the count hit nine.

            _I'll not fail here._

            "You're not done with me yet, Maru," he screamed at the departing figure.

            Maru turned around and stared at Akira with an amused look.  He smiled gently.  "You've proven yourself enough.  I'm impressed with your ability to keep getting up."

            Akira grunted again as pain shot through his injured leg.  "Then do your duty to me, and finish it here."

            Maru's eyes filled with respect and understanding as he nodded.  "As you wish," he whispered as he dropped into a fighting stance.  "Prepare."

            Akira set his jaw grimly and dropped into his fight stance as best he could.

            Akira lay in the out of bounds area, breathing hard with exertion.  Sweat mixed with blooded and pasted disgustingly over his face.  Through a reddish curtain, he saw Maru walk over and offer him his hand.

            "I knew there was no way to beat you other than to kill you or knock you out of the ring.  It would be disrespectful and criminal of me to kill another martial artist.  You've fought admirably and showed tremendous courage.  There is no disgrace in your loss today.  No dishonor was shown."

            Akira nodded as best he could and reached up weakly for the outstretched hand and managed a weak, "Thank you."


	5. Chapter 4: Overture

Chapter 4:  Overture

            Piccolo had been watching the fight from the waiting area reserved for the fighters.  He had caught every word spoken between the two fighters.  Although the fight was for the most part one sided, the abilities that were exhibited nonetheless intrigued him.

_            So, what do you think of him?  King Kai's nasal voice rang sharply through Piccolo's mind._

            _Impressive.  I'll give him a try.  Piccolo mused._

            _Good.  But you'll have to wait until the end of the tournament.  The kaio of the Northern Galaxy sounded almost giddy with excitement._

_            Piccolo raised an eyebrow quizzically.  __Why?  I can take him right now._

            _I highly doubt that the young man would appreciate being taken out of the tournament when he has such a good chance of winning.  He's clearly the best fighter in this tournament other than you, Piccolo._

            _One, that's not true, there's somebody else here.  Piccolo took a deep breath.  __And two, my student is already out of the tournament._

            Now it was Kai's turn to be confused.  _Already out of the tournament… you can't be serious!_

            Piccolo smirked as he drew a mental picture of the portly kaio flailing about completely flustered.  _Why not?  Piccolo derived no small pleasure from torturing the blue kaio._

            _Because!  King Kai stated agitatedly, __he has nowhere near the skills of Aiko Maru.  He barely knows how to fight, and has no physical prowess worth mentioning!_

            _Circumstances both of which can easily be remedied.  Piccolo stretched himself fully.  __Besides, I see something in this boy that I've not seen since…_

            _I don't care what you see in this boy!  King Kai screamed.  __There is no time for your games, Piccolo.  You may well doom us all because of your poor choice!_

            Piccolo stood up straight to his full height.  _Do you doubt my judgment, Kai?  He growled menacingly.  __I have made the choice, and I have complete confidence that it's the right one.  If you disagree, you are welcome to choose your own protégé; as it is, I have chosen mine._

            _You know very well that I cannot train anyone in the mortal realm.  King Kai retorted._

            _You could wait for him to die.  Piccolo grinned maliciously, living up aptly to his title as the Demon King._

            King Kai growled faintly in Piccolo's mind.  _You know that's not an option._

            _No?  Why, I could easily kill him for you._

            Finally, King Kai blew up.  _Do you mock me, mortal?  The North Kaio's voice boomed in Piccolo's head.  __No matter how wise and powerful you consider yourself to be, I am infinitely more so.  I am the North Kaio, and despite whatever animosity you may feel towards me, you have your duty.  Now do it!_

            Piccolo's eyes blazed.  _My duty is not to you.  It is to this planet and to the people who inhabit it.  I believe that this is the best way to fulfill my duty, and for all your great power, Kai, __there is nothing you could do about it in this realm.  So live with it._

            King Kai's voice came back mixed with frustrated resignation and bitter vehemence.  _So be it, Daimao Piccolo Jr.  I may have to live with your decision, but I fear that you and the rest of the mortal world may have to die with it._

            Kail had arrived on Mutenroshi's island merely moments before.  He noted his surroundings: the sapphire blue sea, stretching all around him as far as his eyes could see, the tall mountain that stood tall out of the center of the island, and the lone house, small in size but all the more cozy for it, standing in the middle of the golden beach.  He noted these things, but none of the managed to register any meaning in his mind.  He was still numb from all the information that he received from the mysterious man next to him.

            He glanced at Hope, the purple haired young man who had brought him here, the young man who was the bearer of bad news.  It was he that had told Kail of King Kold's empire, the rebellion, Kail's place thereof, and finally the passing of his mother.

            The news had overwhelmed him.  For Kail, his mother was the one of the few human contact he had, living in the woods as he had.  She was his mother in all the traditional sense of the word and more.  She was really the only human company that he had.  Losing her devastated him.  He mourned as a child would mourn the passing of his parent, and he mourned as a man would mourn the loss of his only companion.  He mourned for a long time, until there was no more of his emotions to spare.  In place of the grief, he was left with a dull ache in his heart.

            It became easier for him, however, as he met the other members of the resistance.  They accepted him, consoled him and comforted him for his loss.  Finally having human contact helped his transition immeasurably.  Kail soon became a favorite among them, an innocent child of 12 years old, completely polite and often completely naïve.  Under that façade that had won over so many in his favor, however, there lay another child.  A child who had to bear the responsibility of knowing that he was the One, that he was the absolute last hope for all of humanity – in essence, a haunted child who'd forever be in conflict with the 12 year old boy who he should have been.

            Kail knew he would never be able to really come to grips with all the emotions that ran through his mind that day.  He felt guilt, anger, indignation, grief, fear, and emotions that he had no names for.  Hope said, however, that Kail would eventually be able to continue and function normally.  He said that while there was no way for him to completely understand what the younger boy was going through, he could speak from experience, in that he himself had lost his family members.  He said that the loss was like a ghost that haunted him since then, but with time, he was able to put things in perspective and almost tolerate the ghost to live with him.  Kail took some heart in those words, understanding that he had someone that he could speak with, someone that could come close to understanding.  And for now, he was at ease.

            And a big part of Kail looked forward to the training with Master Roshi.  Hope said that Master Roshi ran a pretty difficult training regiment, and Kail knew he needed something to focus on.  Having a goal, Hope had told him, was a great way to focus and get your mind off whatever's bothering you.  _If nothing else, it would be miles better than just sitting around and doing nothing._

            Furthermore, the training had a more practical purpose.  This was something that had been drilled into Kail's mind ever since the first meeting with Hope.  While Hope was compassionate about Kail's loss, he was strident when it came to Kail's role in the events to come.  Kail was never left in any doubt about the fact that he was the One, that he would eventually lead the fight to Earth's freedom, and the downfall of Kold's empire.  Kail willingly accepted the responsibility for two reasons.

            The first reason arose from Hope's own conviction.  In the two weeks that he had spent at the rebellion's compound with Hope, the older man had talked about almost nothing else than bringing down Kold's empire and freeing Earth.  _Hope is completely obsessed with the whole rebellion.  He shoulders the well being of the whole planet on his shoulders.  He truly believes that I can make a difference.  I'll be damned if I'm going to let him down.  And if I really am the One, then I have a responsibility to everyone to make the prophecy come true and bring down Emperor Kold._

_            The other reason stemmed from Kail's own need for revenge.  __My mother was killed because of Kold.  While I wish I had a more noble reason, it's nothing more than seeing Kold pay for his crimes to me and my mother.  Kail mutely clenched his fists.  __I'll make you pay, Kold.  By Kami I will._

            Kail noticed an old man, hunched over by numerous years, coming out of the house, and walking toward where he and Hope were standing.  The old man was completely bald, but had a long white mustache and beard.  He was wearing a pair of sunglasses, a Hawaiian T-shirt, shorts, and a pair of sandals.  On his back, he wore a large Turtle shell.  He walked slowly, supported partially be his cane, and accompanied by a giant turtle.

            Kail glanced up at the man standing next to him.  "Is that him?" he asked, as he pointed with a finger.

            Hope had a faint trace of a smile on his face, "Yeah, that's him.  That's Master Roshi."

            The old man greeted them with a big grin.  "Oi, hello there!"  He gave them both a big wave.

            Hope stepped forward to meet him.  "Hello, Master Roshi," he said as he extended his hand.  "It's been a long time."

            "Yes, it has, old friend.  You should have come by more often."

            "I'm sorry, Master Roshi, but I've been very busy."

            Mutenroshi sniffed.  "I've no doubt of that."  He soon turned his attention to Kail.

            "Is this the boy you've told me about?"

            Hope looked back at him and smiled.  "Yes, he is."

            Master Roshi walked over to the younger boy.  "So, you're my new student."

            Kail, not knowing what to say, merely nodded in response.

            "Well, what's your name, young 'un?"

            "Kail," he replied.

            "You're ready to train, then?"

            Kail took a deep breath.  "Yes, sir."

            Roshi nodded approvingly.  "Good.  It's nice to see someone who's so aware of his situations."  He paused a moment before continuing.  "It's nice to meet you, Kail."

            "Nice to meet you, too, sir."

            The old master shook his hand firmly and replied, "Don't call me 'sir.'  It makes me feel too old."

            Kail stuttered awkwardly.  "Ah… yes, sir, I mean, Master Roshi."

            Master Roshi suddenly burst into laughter.  "I was being ironical.  Don't worry about it."

            Kail smiled along with him, feeling instantly more comfortable.

            "Good, you know how to smile."  Roshi slapped Kail on the back.  "Go and get some rest.  The guest room is already prepared.  We start tomorrow."

            Kail glanced back at Hope.

            Hope smiled at him warmly.  "Go ahead.  I've gotta head out anyway.  Take care of yourself, Kail, and I'll drop in again in about a month."  He turned to Master Roshi and bowed deeply.  "It was good seeing you again, Master Roshi.  Take care."

            "I will.  Be good, young man."

            Hope nodded quickly and waved back a Kail before taking to the sky.

            After a moments silence, Mutenroshi turned again to speak to Kail.  "Let's get you settled in for tonight.  We have a long day ahead of us."

            Kail smiled in response.  _I'll make you proud, mother, he silently promised himself, as he walked toward the quaint house on the beach with the older man._


	6. Chapter 5: The seed of Rebellion

            Travel the depths of space, beyond our own system, and many distant light years later; arrive on the planet of Kapria.  Here takes place the next chapter in our story.

            Princess Aurora paced the enclosed waiting area outside the Chamber of Elders.  Her father, Lord Phoebus, had long been a member of the Kaprian senate, the governing body that answered only to the Chamber of Elders.

            The Kaprian Senate was made up of 48 senators, or in Kaprian, _heiese, who represented his or her given area.  The planet of Kapria was made up of 24 different constituent sectors, and each of the sectors was represented in the Senate by 2 __heiese.  The __heiese were chosen by birthright, that is, the status was passed down through generation in the given bloodline.  The family was bred into the role and they were thought to have the best blood type for the job than any other families, until proven otherwise.  Other bloodlines were considered for the role of carrying the __heiese status, but only one was chosen.  The rejected bloodlines could, after a generation – that is, after the person that was chosen as __heiese had served and passed away – challenge the chosen bloodline for the status of __heiese._

            Princess Aurora's family, House _Boraeliese, had held the status of __heiese for six generations, the longest that any family of ruling blood type has held the position.  Therefore, House __Boraeliese was considered the best ruling house in Kapria, and Lord Phoebus, the alpha male of the House and __heiese of Kaprian sector 3, was considered mostly likely to be inducted into the Chamber of Elders to replace the residing Kaprian Elder._

            Eight other planets made up the Kaprian system, and each of the planets chose one Elder from their respective senate, making for a total of 9 Elders in the Kaprian senate.

            Being chosen to be an Elder was a difficult and careful process and birthright provided no guarantee.  The selection process would start when one of the Elders began nearing an age when he was expected to retire.  When the time came, the process would begin in the planet from which the Elder originated.   First, each _heiese of the senate had an opportunity to make a case for his or her nomination as the next Elder.  Each application was reviewed by a separate electoral college – which was made up of various prominent scholars – and the five best candidates were chosen and submitted, to now be reviewed by the retiring Elder.  The Elder sponsored one of the 5 candidates.  The candidate then made his case again in the Chamber, and the sponsoring Elder made his supporting case.  After the 8 others reviewed the candidate, and came to a decision (the candidate only needed to do better than a 3 out of the 8 vote), the candidate was then subjected to a final initiation.  The initiation consisted of several tests, but it was largely ceremonial and none of the candidates who got that far failed to complete the exam._

            Should the candidate be rejected by the Elders, or fail the initiation tests – however unlikely either of those cases were – then Elder would sponsor the next of the 4 remaining, and so on and so forth.  Never had all 5 candidates failed in the final stages, but should they have failed, the process would start again, but the initial five were no longer allowed to participate.

            Aurora's father, Lord Phoebus, was a lock to be chosen as Elder.  All politicians, whether they are bred for the role or not, have connection and owe favors or are owed favors.  Phoebus, through his own connections, and of the connections and the prominence of his predecessors, was able to gain some crucial votes in the Electoral College and in the Chamber itself.  Phoebus would make a great leader and do great things for Kapria in his new position.  Aurora, however, was a problem.

            At birth, all Kaprian, of royal blood or not, have their genetic coding tested.  Of the ruling house, Aurora had the weakest genetic predisposition to being a ruler and a politician.  She didn't need to worry, however, about being challenged, because her transition to _heiese following her father would be natural.  Because her father was being moved up to the higher ruling class, it was __natural for Aurora to step into the __heiese role; thus, her position could not be challenged._

            However, the problem remained, she had lost the respect of many of the members of the senate even before she got a chance.  She could, with a two-thirds majority of the senate, be replaced as _heiese after 2 Kaprian years of office.  This scenario was becoming more and more likely because of her genetic test results._

            Which lead to the main reason for her being here.  _Father wanted me to be here to present our case to the Elders so he could show his own faith in me.  The senate considered new issues at the bi-weekly meetings.  One of them was the Trade Tariff and Route Agreement imposed by Kold's Empire.  While Kapria lay on the fringes of Kold's Empire, they increasingly influenced by the growing empire.  The Agreement would not only restrict the trade routes so that the Empire could monitor and regulate trade, it would also impose a tariff on all trade goods leaving the Kaprian system.  The Empire would provide the work force through slave labor, there by reducing production prices, and via the tariff, increase the gross income, but giving that much control to Kold's Empire meant that the Kaprians would lose much of their economic autonomy and with it, their political sovereignty.  It also limited the various markets that the Kaprians relied on._

            There was some strong support for the Agreement in the senate and the privately owned enterprises, but the Anti-Empire factions proved to be stronger in this case.  Now, it was up to Aurora to present their case to the Chamber of Elders.  _Father pulled a lot of strings to get me audience with the Chamber.  It's been done, using a proxy to present a case, but never on an issue of this magnitude.  There's a lot riding on this opportunity.  If I can sway the Elders in my favor, than not only will we began a direct defiance of the Empire, I'll also gain a lot of support for my future.  Aurora knew, that failing here meant that Kapria would ultimately fall under the Empires rules.  Not only that, both she and her father would lose face in the political landscape; Aurora would only reinforce her apparent incompetence as a politician, and Phoebus would seem foolish in making such a poor judgment in such an important issue.  Succeeding, however, would mean that she was gaining respect from her political peers._

            Aurora continued to pace the waiting room.  She was resplendently dressed in a verdant green dress with gold trims, following the color scheme of House _Boraeliese.  The silky garment was modestly cut, sleeveless down her right arm, but covering her left arm from shoulder to wrist.  The dress was slim-fitting, hugging her figure gently.  She donned her golden tiara, embedded in the center with the Coruscan emerald.  The scintillating jewel produced its own light, sparkling with electrifying green that mirrored the green eyes of the princess.  Vibrant red hair cascaded down over Aurora's shoulders and Aurora absent-mindedly tucked her hair behind her ears.  She looked every bit the beautiful and confident princess that the media made her out to be, but inside, she was anything but._

            She glanced over at her two guardians.  Their facial expressions were stoic and unchanging, but their calm gray eyes followed her every movements, keeping a constant vigil.  Tall and broad shouldered, they exuded an aura of safety and that normally comforted Aurora, but now it bothered her.

            "You know you don't have to stay here," Aurora suggested to her guards.

            The first guard, sharply dressed in a white uniform of the royal guards, with a green cape over his left shoulder, spoke in a soothing bass.  "It is our duty to protect you, Princess."

            Aurora smiled warmly at her faithful companion.  "I know that, Jeice, but you're making me nervous by being in here.  This is really a lot for me to handle, and if you're here, I'll feel even more pressured."

            There was a hint of hesitation in Jeice's granite eyes before he replied.  "If our watching you makes you uncomfortable, we could face the wall," he offered.

            _You are loyal to a fault, my friend.  Aurora chuckled quietly.  "You don't have to do that.  One of your duties is also to obey my orders.  Now, I __order you to leave.  The both of you."_

            Jeice contemplated this for a moment then nodded.  "We will be right outside the door, Princess, if you need us."

            "I know, Jeice, thank you."  She reached up and gave the tall guard a hug around his neck.  He glanced down at her face and responded with the smallest smile before gesturing to his partner and heading out the door.

            Aurora sighed.  Jeice and his companion weren't average guards.  They were of the warrior caste, and bred specifically for the role of _eijai, or guardian.  Jeice and his partner, Breen, were actually twins.  They were genetically engineered to be __eijai type, and were very powerful fighters.  __Eijai were known specifically for their martial skills and fierce dedication.  Stories of the __eijai sacrificing themselves for their masters were common among the Kaprians.  Aurora knew that the twins would not hesitate a second before throwing themselves into space to die a cold hard death if it meant the survival of the princess.  While she found that comforting, it also bothered her.  __That's just two more people depending on me, and that's more pressure than I need right now._

            Her reveries were interrupted by the opening of the huge doors that led to the Chambers of the Elders.  A tall woman dressed in a simple white gown walked out.

            "The Elders are expecting you, princess."

            Aurora nodded politely and took a deep breath before entering.

            The chamber was shaped in a large circle, and the nine Elders occupied half of it, facing the door.  Aurora stepped up to the podium in the center and bowed respectfully.  She straightened up and began speaking with confidence that she did not feel.

            "Distinguished Elders, I come to you with an issue of great importance, and I am honored by your allowing me audience."  She paused for a moment and looked around the chamber before continuing.

            "As you all know, King Kold's empire is expanding quickly.  In almost no time at all, he has reached our Kaprian Sector and now demands that we sign a preposterous agreement of which we see no benefit.

            "Kold seeks to take control of our sector by controlling the flow of resources therein.  There are factions within the sector that are supportive of the agreement, but in their short-sightedness and greed for more money, they fail to realize that we will ultimately lose our governmental autonomy if we do agree.

            "Which is why I stand here before you today, speaking for all of my colleagues who say that we will not submit to Kold and his demands.  We will take a stand here, and even though King Kold may soon take over the whole galaxy, he will not take our sector while we still breathe."

            Aurora took some heart in the emphatic nods amongst some of the elders.  They seemed in almost unanimous agreement except for one of them.

            "You are foolish, child, if you think that by rejecting this treaty, it will deter Kold in any way from taking over our sector."

            Aurora turned to look at the hatchet faced man that had spoken.  He was Eliad of House Poulsaer.  The white haired man was the sole opposition to her father's becoming an Elder.  _No doubt he seeks to embarrass me here today so he can hurt my father's standing.  I'll give him no chance to do so._

            Aurora shot the old man a icy glare.  "I am not a child, nor am I foolish.  I know full well that rejecting the treaty may very well accomplish nothing.  But from what I know of Kaprian tradition, we do not run from the face of imminent doom."

            The subtle reference to Eliad's past history as general of the Kaprian Army drew some chuckles from the others.  Before Eliad could sputter another word, Aurora continued the verbal abuse.

            "I, for one, am not content to sit back and watch as Kapria becomes one of Kold's lapdogs.  Signing the treaty goes against the Kaprian pride that is inherent in all of us."  She smirked.  "Correction," she added as she glanced again at Eliad, "in _most_ of us."

            Eliad was incensed by the young princess and the reaction from the Elders that she drew.  "You will remember you place, _girl_.  I am…"

            "I know who you are, Eliad." Aurora cut him off.  "But what I didn't know was _what_ you are.  You are little more than a coward.  You know full well that becoming one of Kold's subjects may cause more suffering for our people.  You hope that, by supporting Kold's army, that he'll grant you some sort of high standing.  You are a traitor."

            Before anyone else could speak, a loud explosion shook the walls of the chamber.  The doors burst open and a number of soldiers dressed in dark blue and white uniforms flooded in through the doors.  _Blue and white?  Poulsaer colors?_  She shot a glance at where Eliad had sat, but he was no longer there.  _Eliad, you son of a bitch._

            She turned, desperately looking around for an escape.  Her eyes caught movement and she turned to it, only to see a giant ki-blast hurtling towards her.

            Aurora shut her eyes and threw up her hands.  She expected the blast's horrible energy to burn her hands, but the pain never came.  When she opened her eyes, she saw Jeice, standing gallantly in front of her, protecting her from her assailant.

            Jeice reached over his shoulder and drew his broadsword from its scabbard.  Aurora had once tried to pick up the sword, but failed to even budge it.  However, from the numerous times that she had watched Jeice train with it, she knew that to him, the sword weighed little more than a pen.

            An assassin leapt at Aurora with a dagger in his hand but he was sliced out of the air by Jeice's broadsword.

            "Princess, come.  We must leave right now," Jeice urged.  His voice betrayed no emotion.

            Aurora looked up at him.  "Jeice, what about my father?"

            For a moment, Jeice seemed genuinely apologetic.  That emotion quickly disappeared however, when he spoke.

            "He's dead."

            Aurora's eyes widened in shock.  "What?  How could…"

            "Princess, there is no time.  We must go.  The Palace was destroyed.  Soon, more will come."  There was a hint of urgency in Jeice's gray eyes.

            Not knowing how to respond, Aurora stood there dumbly.  Her mind told her feet furiously to start running, but her body refused to move.

            Jeice frowned in frustration and simply picked her up by the waist, throwing her over her shoulder.  He quickly dispatched two more assassins and ran out through the door.

            Breen joined them only moments later, his cloak torn to pieces from the battle.  Together they headed towards the hangar bay.  On the way, they met more assassins, but between Breen and Jeice, the would-be killers were quickly disposed of.

            They reached the hangar and found an old freighter that had not been destroyed.  Jeice, moving with calm efficiency, opened the door, secured the princess in a chair and sat down in the pilot's chair himself.  Breen took his spot in the co-pilot's seat.

            As they cleared the hangar, the ship shook from the blasts fired from the ground.  Jeice quietly increased the rear shields and accelerated.  As soon as they cleared the atmosphere, he made the jump into hyperspace, leaving the Kapria system behind, and into the unknown.


	7. Chapter 6: Training begins

And now, words from the author…

_Hey guys and gals,_

_If you're reading this story, God bless you.  If you're not, then what I say here doesn't really matter, does it?_

_This _is _my first note to you readers, and I apologize for that.  A writer really is nothing with out his or her audience.  That's our job:  we entertain you.  More than that, I want to make a connection with you guys.  So from now on, I promise to drop you guys notes every now and then._

_First off, thanks for the reviews, for those of you who've read and reviewed my work.  Reviews are to writers what Gatorade is for athletes, it keeps us going.  What you put in, is what you get out – meaning that the better reviews I get the better stuff I put out (how's that for coming up with an extended metaphor on the fly?).  Keep those comments coming._

_If you have any suggestions, I'd be happy to consider them for my story.  They may or may not appear in the story, but if it's good enough, you'll see it here._

_To the best reviewers, the more reviews you give me, the more chances you get of being added in the story.  It is a bit of a gimmick, but I am looking to add another character, and if you show that you've been following the story (that is, by adding quality reviews) then I may consider creating a character in your honor._

_If you like the story, certain consider recommending it to other readers._

_That's it for now – oh and by the way, if you've not read _The Legend of Seven Swords_ by Suloong, then you're really missing out._

_And also read my other fics in the Slam Dunk section, _I, Tensai, _and_, Second to None.

_Thanks for bearing with me.  The following notes will be shorter._

_Without further ado, here's the latest chapter in _Gathering of Heroes.__

_Excelsior._

            Akira focused on his opponent.  He stood a head and a half taller than Akira and built sleek and powerful like a torpedo.  He was predominantly green, except for the discolored muscles that defined his powerful arms.  Wearing a white turban and a flowing white cape, Akira's opponent still looked every bit as imposing and intimidating as he did the first time Akira had met him.

            _He came to me after my defeat in the Tenkaichi Boudokai.  He offered me power beyond my imagination, all in exchange for my service in saving the universe.  _Saving the universe, _how do you respond to that?  I said yes, but like entering the Tenkaichi Boudokai, I should have thought before I acted._

            Akira's whole body ached from the rigorous training over the course of the last month.  Granted, Akira had no clue what he had gotten himself into, but he had not imagined in his wildest dreams that the training would be so difficult.  He had yet to fully recuperate even from the injuries acquired during the tournament.  Never really given the chance to fully heal, Akira had pushed himself, and had been pushed, to his limits and far beyond it.  It had only been a week when Akira had felt himself hit the figurative wall, when he could push no further.  He was pushed to break through it completely and forge on ahead.

            _Even if I had known what the training would have entailed, it would have been difficult to refuse him.  He carried himself with such charisma and power, it was impossible to even conceive of denying him.  Such is the power of the former Demon King._

            Piccolo, first a stranger, then his mentor, now his opponent, exuded an aura that seemed to encompass the entire area and control everything within it to his own liking.  It really had been impossible to turn him down.

            And Akira faced the same aura now, except it had a different effect.  This one threatened to envelope him and completely smother him.  Akira felt the phantom weight bearing down on him and crushing him in all its intimidation.  Nonetheless, he forced his fears out of his mind and charged toward his mentor and opponent.

            His speed was severely hindered by the weighted clothing that he was forced to wear.  Akira had worn weighted clothing at the very start of training, and progressed to heavier weights as he got stronger, or allegedly so, because Akira felt no difference in his abilities – he was consistently left in a limbo between complete exhaustion and full physical capabilities.  He wore fatigue like a second skin; it clung to him, and he could not shake it off, regardless of how hard he tried.  Ironically, the harder he tried, more fatigued he became.

            And it was the same fatigue that slowed his reaction down now.  He caught a glimpse of Piccolo's right fist hurtling toward his face, but simply could not move fast enough to block it.  The right jab was quickly followed by a left uppercut to the ribs that cracked Akira's ribs like so much twig.

            Akira dropped his right arm to cover his tender flank and forced his mind to push beyond the pain and concentrate.  Piccolo had repeatedly drilled into him the efficiency of motion, and Akira planned to use it to its fullest now.

            Efficiency of motion had to do with shifting the body into the most advantageous position using the absolute least amount of movement.  At its simplest form, it was making a ninety degree left turn instead of a 270 degree right turn.  In its most complex form, it involved one's center of gravity, cone of attack, and the sphere of awareness.

            Center of gravity referred to the core of the fighter, and maintaining its position so that the fighter stays balanced.  Akira had spent incalculable hours to just master the footwork necessary to keep his balance in a defensive situation and an offensive situation.

            Cone of attack was the triangle formed by the fighter's arms when he held them out in front of him.  All attacks originated from that cone and the length of the cone from base to tip determined the ideal striking range of the fighter.

            Combining the first two factors accounted for much of Piccolo's fighting philosophy.  It was his contention that if the one of the fighters could maintain his own center of gravity and cone of attack while disrupting the his opponent's in the least moves necessary, then victory was guaranteed for that fighter.

            The third factor was crucial for achieving such a victory.  The sphere of awareness referred to the space that is within the arm's length of the fighter and the total awareness of the occurrence in the mentioned area.  Piccolo claimed that if one's awareness became sharp enough, it soon began to border on precognition, and the fighter would start to react to attacks before they even occurred.  To achieve this state, Piccolo stated, the fighter needed to be _completely_ aware of his space with _all_ his senses – the senses of vision, hearing, smell, touch and even taste.  Once in such a state, the fighter had to disregard everything except for the _now_.  That meant that the fighter would have to forget about what will happen as a consequence of an action, and what _had_ happened and fully concentrate on what was happening at that moment.  The logic was, the sooner the present is processed in the mind, the sooner the fighter can deal with the next moment in time.  Awareness was the key: higher state of awareness lead to quicker processing of the present, and the fighter could begin to process the next moment sooner.  Literally, the fighter would, in his mind, start analyzing and reacting to the next moment before it even occurred; at the very least, he would get to the next moment before his opponent did.

            Akira found this to be the hardest concept to swallow.  He understood the logic behind it, and the steps that were necessary to achieve such a state, but the whole scheme sounded to him like a lot of theory.  While he spent a fair amount of time practicing within his sphere of awareness, he spent much more time in the first two principles.  _I'll be damned if I rely on something that may turn out to be a complete hoax during a real fight.  I may as well practice something that actually works._  His decision really had nothing to do with whether or not he believed in the sphere of awareness, but Akira wanted to have something to rely on during a real fight.

            And right now, he was doing his damnedest to put his first two principles to practice.  He began moving much more fluidly and with less movement, both of which were essential to the efficiency of motion, but it had very little impact.  Akira was able to block a number of strikes, but Piccolo was often just too quick for him.  Akira understood exactly where he had to be to defend himself, but simply could not get to that spot soon enough._  The more that hits you, but more that will_.  He knew that he would have no chance if Piccolo continued to strike him at will.  He had to do something, so despite what his common sense told him, he took a step back and drew a deep breath.

            _Better that I find out here that it doesn't work than finding out in a real fight that it's ineffective._  Akira squelched the skepticism rising in his gut and concentrated.  He noted the grass that surrounded them, he felt he breeze on his bare skin.  He heard the birds, his breathing and even Piccolo's breathing.  He smelled the sour scent of his sweat, contrasted sharply by the brisk crispness of the air.  He tasted the air, and he even thought that he could taste Piccolo's aura in the air.  Smiling to himself, he drew his hands up in his fighting stance, his arms forming a loose triangle and let Piccolo come to him.  He didn't disappoint.

            Piccolo shot forward and drew back his right arm, and closed the distance between them almost too quickly for Akira's mind to register.  He blindly threw his hands up to cover his left side and felt Piccolo's attack strike it.  Akira smiled even more broadly and shifted his footing, stepping away from Piccolo's attempted hook.  Akira may have even attempted a counterstrike had he not gotten his feet kicked out from underneath him.

            As he fell to the ground Akira began to feel foolish.  _I should have known, such a state is impossible to achieve and completely impractical.  It has no place in a real fight and here the technique failed me.  He felt betrayed by Piccolo for teaching him such a useless technique.  Akira roughly made contact with the ground and even began to feel angry at Piccolo when he came to a sudden realization.  __Did the technique fail you or did you__ fail it?_

            The simplicity of the question shocked Akira.  _It's true.  I never really believed that the technique would work.  As hard as I tried to keep an open mind, I still let my preconception paint my perspective on the technique.  The technique never worked for me because I never gave it a chance to work._

            Upon coming to this startlingly simple revelation, Akira quickly began to clear his mind.  _This time, I'll really try to make it work.  If I can't trust any of my senses other than seeing, then I'll just have to force my sense to trust them._

            Akira pushed himself off the ground and again drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly.  As he exhaled, he let all his prejudices flow out with his breath.  He no longer allowed himself to consider the consequences of his actions, and put faith in his body and instinctive mind to _just act._

            He opened up his senses even more fully than before and a flood of information filled his mind.  Akira closed his eyes and let his mind weave all the elements into a single composition.  He saw in his mind a clearer picture of his surroundings than he ever did with his eyes.  The trees, the grass, the air, the pattern of wind, even the small insect that flew in nonsense loops in the air.  The picture was so vivid that Akira could have sworn he really had his eyes open.  So much so that he almost reached up with his hands to check that his eyes were indeed closed.

            Akira brought his hands up in his fighting stance, and registered the oncoming rush of air.  So heightened was his senses that he could feel the contours of the air as a figure that Akira knew could only be Piccolo charged at him.  Akira allowed his eyes to open and matched up his mental picture with what his eyes saw.  Then, the most fascinating thing happened.

            Akira easily blocked Piccolo's first strike, a leaping roundhouse kick to his left temple.  Akira's eyes saw Piccolo move to strike with his left fist, but his mind's eye showed all the possible attacks that Piccolo could attempt in blue shadows and highlighted the left jab in a bright silver sheen.  Akira moved to block the jab, but his mind had already moved to the next event, and highlighted a right hook kick.  Even before Piccolo moved to strike, Akira had stepped away, and threw a front snap kick of his own.  However, he hit nothing but air.

            Piccolo had disappeared and reappeared behind him and hit Akira with a mild ki-blast.  Akira was sent sprawling to the ground, his back smoldering from the blast.

            Akira got up with a groan and turned to face his mentor, again letting himself slipping into that state of awareness that he achieved, not a moment ago.

            Piccolo smiled genuinely.  "That's enough for today, Akira.  You did great."

            Akira looked at his master quizzically.  Piccolo had never told him that anything was _enough.  They had kept on pushing until Akira could no longer physically get up.  "Piccolo, sir?  I can train more."_

            The Namek nodded.  "I know you can, Akira, but today, you've reached a crucial point in your development as a warrior.  I'm very impressed that you were able to manifest such awareness in just a month."

            "Thank you, sir," Akira replied as he bowed deeply.  He straightened and winced from the pain in his side.  He gritted his teeth as he felt his ribs crack back into place.

            Piccolo chuckled.  "Here, I have something for you."  He removed the pouch from his waist, and opened it, drawing from it a small bean.  He tossed it to Akira who plucked deftly out of the air.  Akira again looked at his mentor.

            "It's a senzu bean.  Eat it, it'll make you feel better."

            Akira shrugged.  _It'd be no more amazing than some of the things that happened today.  He popped the bean into his mouth and chewed before swallowing.  Immediately, the pain in his side faded and the fatigue seemed to drain away from his muscles, leaving him feeling lighter and better than he had in a long time.  He looked down at himself and noted that his frame had bulked considerably.  He was still slim by anyone's standards, but his arms were now framed with corded muscles that pulsed as he flexed._

            "Master…"

            "Karin grows it from his tower.  It completely replenishes your strength and heals injuries regardless of how dire they may be.  And, if you take them under nominal circumstances, it's supposed to keep you full for three weeks.

            "You've been pushing harder than anyone I've seen in a long time.  You deserve some rest, Akira."

            "Thank you, sir."  Akira bowed once again, but did not turn to go back to their camp.  "Piccolo, sir?"

            "Yes?"

            "Can I ask a question, sir?"

            "You just did, but I'll give you another."

            Akira scratched the back of his head.  "How come you won't teach me to do those ki-techniques?"

            Piccolo sighed.  "The reason is that I've seen so many fighters, good fighters, with high ki-potentials become too dependent on ki-techniques and don't actually know how to fight hand to hand.  I wanted you to have a solid base of hand to hand combat skills before you work with ki.

            "As it is, you're still a ways off before you can do ki-anything.  Remember, you were able to keep up with me today, but I wasn't even powered up at all.  You have a long way to go."

            "Yes, sir."  Akira nodded and turned to go back to camp.

            "Akira," Piccolo called.

            "Sir?"

            "You're doing a great job though.  I promise, when you're ready, I'll make sure you know everything there is to know about ki."

            Akira smiled broadly and saluted.  "Yes, sir."


	8. Chapter 7: Excelsior

_Hey guys and gals._

_Sorry about the long hiatus between the updates, but between my workload in college (which is close to non-existent) and my laziness, it took this long to get this chapter out.  This chapter is easily twice as long as my previous chapters, and I've decided that the following chapters will be at least this long as to prevent my story from spanning over too many chapters.  Few long chapters will be much more manageable than many long chapters, and certainly more satisfying to you, my readers._

_I promise to get at least one chapter out every week.  In the meantime, please read and review.  Any and all reviews are welcome and remember, the best reviewer gets a spot in the story.  It's a gimmick, but I'm hoping it works._

_And most important of all, enjoy my story._

_Keep that pen moving._

            A blue haired woman sat hunched over her desk lit by a single desk lamp in an otherwise darkened room.  She furiously scribbled various numbers and algorithms on a blank sheet of paper.  As useful as computers were, she despised using them when working on a new project.

            Her desk was neatly organized: a stack of papers stood on the left side of her desk so that she wouldn't knock them over accidentally when she was writing.  Her computer monitor sat further back on the desk, far enough back so that she could look at the screen for an extended period of time without driving herself blind.  The actual tower of the computer that stored all of its information lay to the right of the desk.  Tucked underneath the desk surface was another pull-out surface where the keyboard and mouse lay.  To the right of the pull-out surface were three desk drawers, the top drawer containing various rulers and writing utensils and calculator.  The second drawer contained numerous disks, each containing millions of bits of information.  The third drawer contained numerous hard copies of files, papers, and conceptual designs.

            A shelf hung over the desk, littered with book on various topics in sciences and mathematics – despite being a famed scientist and inventor, even she could not be asked to retain all the information.

            The desk itself was in the corner of the room, and a large window adorned the left wall.  Oftentimes, she'd look out the window and enjoy the view of the peaceful forest, while her mind wandered, gathering bits and pieces of inspiration seemingly out of nowhere.

            This was not her home, but she spent much of her time here.  This was not her laboratory, but she spent much of her time in research here.  This was not her bedroom, but she often let herself fall asleep here.

            Bulma, the head researcher of Capsule Corporation deigned the use of advanced technology in the early stages of research.  All of her concepts were conceived, considered, reviewed and refined in this small room of maybe 20 square feet.  She put them to work in the lab, and that was all that was done in the lab – the manifestation of the concept.  All other work occurred here.

            And Bulma was likewise working on a new concept design when she was interrupted by the opening of the door.

            A short bald man walked in through the door and greeted Bulma with a smile.

"Hey, Bulma."

Bulma turned from her workstation to face the guest.  When she recognized who it was, a radiant smile spread itself over her pretty face.

"Kurilin!  How are you?"  She raised herself from her chair and met Kurilin with a  big hug.  Bulma held on for a moment before pulling herself away and looking the short man in the face.

Kurilin chuckled.  "I'm doing just fine.  How are you doing?"

Bulma shrugged nonchalantly.  "Tired, I guess.  I've been cooped up in this room for a long time, working on this new project."  
            The other man raised an eyebrow.  "Why aren't you at Capsule Corp?  I'm sure they have better accommodations than here in the Rebel Compound."

Bulma nodded thoughtfully before responding.  "I know, but I seem to work better here.  And ever since Kold's Empire took control of Earth and with it Capsule Corp, I just don't feel as comfortable working there.  Besides, the work that I'm doing right now isn't something that can be done at Capsule Corp.  There are too many eyes there."

Kurilin nodded.  "So what is this new project your working on now?"

Bulma's eyes brightened.  She simply loved explaining her work to others.  "Well, it isn't something for home use, that's for sure."  She smiled.  "It's actually a new type of battle armor."

"Oh, yeah?" Kurilin urged, "what does it do?"

Bulma took a deep breath before continuing.  "Okay, you know and I know that all human's have a basic metabolism, right?  That's the process that provides energy for our bodies to use.  But you know that all life emits a certain ki, another type of energy.  More complex the life form, the more ki that the life form produces, generally.  So, all human to a degree emit some ki.

"It turns out, that the energy produced during metabolism is actually very similar to ki that all life forms produce, except that ki has a much higher frequency.  What that basically means, there's more of it in a smaller space," she explained as she brought her hands closer together, as if squashing some imaginary thing.

Kurilin nodded blankly.  Bulma saw that the other man understood very little of this.

"Okay, think of it like this," she said as she walked over to her computer.  She turned it on and started the audio player program.  

She clicked on a button, producing a pitch.  "This is the note A.  Its frequency is about 440 hertz per second."

Kurilin nodded again.

She clicked on another button, producing a higher note.  "This is the note D.  It's higher pitch, likewise, has a higher frequency.  This is kind of like what ki is, compared to just regular energy."

A small smile formed on Bulma's lips as she said, "Now look."

Bulma produced a microphone from her desk and hooked it up to the computer.  She spoke into the microphone.

"My voice is louder, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

The smile grew larger as she took the microphone away from her mouth and held it to the speaker.

A sharp, teeth-rattling squeal filled the room, forcing Kurilin to cover his ears and scream, "Hey!"

Bulma quickly shut off the microphone, killing the sound, and chuckled.

"What'd you do that for?" Kurilin complained.

"It was an example of positive feedback."

"Positive feedback?"

"Uh huh.  What a microphone does is, it amplifies the sound, which is then produced by the speaker.  When you take the microphone to the speaker, it creates a kind of cycle – the speaker produces a noise, very small, imperceptible noise, the mic amplifies it, sends it to the speaker, and the speaker produces it again, which is again captured by the mic.  And what you heard is the noise, amplified many times over.

"You have to understand that the initial sound was very, very quiet, yet the result, as you well know, was very painful.  So, I thought, what if you applied this to ki?"

Bulma took in a deep breath before continuing again.  "The actual mechanics of this is very complex, but in its simplest form, this is what it says.

"What if you created a kind of microphone for ki?  A kind of input-output system.  Ki goes in, ki comes out, but greatly amplified.  What I did was, I created an input – a mic, if you will – and instead of just producing an amplified version of it, I feed it back into the person, stimulating him to create more ki.  He produces more, the mic captures it, feeds it back in, and the ki keeps on getting amplified through positive feedback until it hits a given threshold, where resulting ki is manifested in a physical form.

"According to previous data stored in the computer and further testing, it turns out that we actually _can create this.  We're thinking about making a blaster attachment to it, so that people who don't know how to control ki can use it, too.  And that'll be the major issue, really, controlling the created energy.  But we think that through training and practice, they can at least use the blaster.  Hopefully, we'll be able to modify on this model to enable flight and faster movement._

"Another problem, and this one may be the only one stopping us, if at all, from creating this armor, is that it'll be very draining for the user.  According to tests, ki-stimulation is very difficult on the subject – they get tired very quickly.  We're thinking about adding a power-pack to alleviate this problem, but the fact is, the suit may only be effective for maybe half an hour, a whole hour, if we use the power pack."

Bulma reached up and brushed her lush blue hair out of her eyes and looked up at her guest.  "So, what do you think?"

Kurilin smiled in return.  "I think it's great.  Will anybody be able to use it?"

Bulma nodded.  "Yes.  Depending on how ever many suits we'll be able to put out,"  Bulma sat down at the desk and turned to face the computer as she continued, "but people like Hope won't be able to – he's too powerful.  He'd just blow the suit up as soon as he  turns it on."

Bulma typed in a command at the computer and pulled up a chart.  "But the problem comes with the research.  We simply don't have enough money in research.  We're trying to get some grants from various private ownerships, but they don't have a lot of funds either.  Besides, they are very hesitant about funding for a project they know nothing about, and we can't risk telling them."

Bulma bit her lower lip and frowned.  "Kold takes 51% of all gross income for all companies.  We don't see the money put to use at all.  We have to downsize, reducing actual production.  It's difficult to even get raw materials to work with because the Empire controls all of that.  So ultimately, Capsule Corp is a private corporation only in name."

She growled in frustration.  "If we just had something to finish the research, we could at least start working on the prototype."

Kurilin smiled down at her benevolently.  "I think I might be able to help you there."

Bulma raised an eyebrow.  "Really?  How?"

"Well, I recently entered and won the Tenkaichi Boudokai," Kurilin replied proudly.  "I have about one hundred thousand credits to work with."

"That's great!"  Bulma exclaimed genuinely.  "That really ought to be enough to finish all the research.  We're in the last steps in research anyway.  We could have a working prototype in about 6 months!"  Bulma paused and gasped.  She looked up at Kurilin with a worried expression.  "You entered the Tenkaichi Boudokai?  Isn't that dangerous?  What if one of Kold's men found out about you?"

Kurilin smirked.  "Well, that's the idea."  Kurilin looked directly into Bulma's eyes.  "Guess who else was there."

"Who?"

Kurilin's smirk grew into a full smile.  "Piccolo."

"Piccolo?  He's alive?"  Bulma was shocked.  "That's means Kami is, too."  She gasped.  "And the dragon balls…"

Kurilin firmly shook his head.  "No, Piccolo destroyed them when the saiyans killed Goku.  The saiyans in turn killed Piccolo."

"How did Piccolo come back?"

Kurilin shrugged.  "Your guess is as good as mine.  I've not talked to Piccolo yet, and King Kai didn't mention how Piccolo was able to leave his planet and the afterlife.  I think Enma Daio granted him a second life, but I don't know how he bent the rules."  Kurilin ran his hand over his bald pate.  "The point is, King Kai had Piccolo and me there at the tournament for a reason.  We were _supposed_ to get Kold's attention."

Bulma was completely baffled.  "Why?"

"We need to take down Kold's Empire.  We can't get to him, so we'll bring him here.  Apparently, we're supposed to get some new help.  As a matter of fact, I was going to Kamesennin's island to check one of them out."

Bulma nodded.  It made sense, in a crazy reckless sort of way.  _Of course, reckless in the suicidal sense._  "So, you're heading out?"

"Yeah," Kurilin replied.  His expression turned grim.  "Things are in motion now.  If everyone does their part, we should come away in pretty good shape."

            _All this space.  Billions of star systems capable of supporting life on one or more of their satellites.  Out of those systems, only a million actually retain life.  And of those, only a hundred thousand have _intelligent_ life forms.  And they all fall into about five thousand different civilizations.  Soon, all that will be under our Empire under Emperor Kold._

            Zarbon stared intently into the blackness sprinkled with numerous stars.  He knew of course, that he was only seeing the light from those stars that had traveled millions of years just to reach his eye.  Realizing such a fact made looking into the stars almost a surreal experience.

Standing in the bridge of the flagship _Imminent Doom_, Zarbon found himself reflecting on many of the recent events:  the fall of the Kapria system and with it, the fall of its neighboring systems, the inter-system trade in the north galaxy finally falling under Kold's Empire, and… the unusual activities on the planet Earth.

While the activities on a single planet had no real significance in the grand scheme of things, Emperor Kold demanded that a close watch be kept on the particular planet.  This arose from several factors.

First, the planet Earth had bred some extraordinarily strong fighters.  When Prince Vegeta had been sent to the planet, he had encountered strong resistance.  Radditz, the saiyan warrior who'd been sent before him, had failed completely.  This forced Vegeta, much stronger fighter, to personally attend to the planet.  Although Vegeta had succeeded in taking over the planet, he had lost his personal guard, Nappa in the process.  Vegeta had not returned in such good shape either.  As a matter of fact, after his battle for Earth, he requested a taskforce to be sent in to finish the job.  Vegeta _always_ finished an assignment personally.

This caused some worry in Zarbon, despite having successfully taken over the planet.  It was he, as a matter of fact, who'd requested close watch over the planet.  Kold had initially rejected the idea, but the following events changed his mind.

There was constant rebellion and uprising that had to be put down.  A couple of times they had come close to succeeding, but Zarbon had taken care of the problem by sending more powerful soldiers.  In fact, Earth required some of the stronger fighter's in Kold's Imperial Army to maintain control.

As nearly as he could tell, the rebellion was led by a man who rivaled many elite fighters in the Imperial Army.  One man was already a handful, but recent findings revealed that there were two more fighters who were almost as strong as he was.  Notably, they had both revealed themselves during the world fighting tournament held every few years on Earth.  The tournament had been held several times previous, but they had never revealed such powerful fighters.  One of the warriors, a Namek, of all races, was calculated to be as strong as, if not stronger than, many of the fighters in Kold's Elite Guards.  The second, a human, was considerably less powerful, but still was on the level of many elite fighters in the Army.

These developments led Kold to impose an embargo on planet Earth, restricting any ships from entering or leaving the planet.  It seemed, that without a way to get off the planet, the earthlings were doing their best to make as much trouble as they could.  They seemed to figure that if they could not make an impact off-planet, then they'd bring trouble upon themselves and make an impact that way.

It was brave and bold, to say the least.  If the gamble paid off, word could get out and cause all kinds of rebellion on other planets.  If they failed, the planet would surely be destroyed, if only for all the hassle they caused.  Zarbon had no intention of them succeeding in their gamble.

Zarbon had sent a taskforce of some elite fighters and Dodoria.  Dodoria was a powerful fighter, but not too swift; perfect for the role of enforcer.  Zarbon knew that that may not be enough, so he'd notified his immediate superior, Freeza.

Freeza was Kold's second son, and the commander of the _Imminent Doom_.  Ruthless and vicious, the most frightening characteristic about him was that he was completely and utterly unpredictable.  It made working under him difficult, but Zarbon, through his wits, had avoided the wrath of the tyrant Icejin.  Sending a preemptive taskforce was just another precaution.  Whatever the case may be, Zarbon refused to be caught unprepared.

And so it was for Zarbon, always planning ahead.  Soon, he'd plan far enough ahead to overcome Freeza.  A man was nothing if not his ambition.

Zarbon contemplated all of these things.  He was the most powerful being after Freeza and as such, he was given much power and control.  But he wanted more.  Ultimately, he'd surpass Freeza, carve out his own sector of the galaxy, ruling it as he saw fit.  This problem on Earth was minor nuisance in the big picture, but a nuisance that had to be destroyed as quickly as possible.

In a deep secluded part of the forest, Akira stood at the edge of a cliff, overlooking a river.  Akira often came to this spot whenever he had time to himself.  Ever since training had started, he had lost all communication with the people he had known.  He knew that for a long time yet, he'd not be able to go back to them.  While he wished he could have told at least his aunt and uncle, he needed to focus wholly on his training.  _And that's the kind of sacrifice I need to make._

            And the training with Piccolo was going as well as he could have hoped.  Akira knew his power increased exponentially.  _Although I wouldn't know it, what with all the weighted clothing I have on all the time.  Piccolo gives me heavier clothing just to keep me uncomfortable.  I don't even know how much my clothes weigh now._

            Akira grimaced.  His skill and technique had improved beyond belief.  When he looked at his reflection in the water, Akira saw a chiseled young man look back at him, and he knew he'd grown physically as well.  He even improved when it came to the efficiency of motion and the sphere of awareness.  He was able to achieve finer control in his sphere and anticipate more incoming attacks.  While it was not nearly a hundred percent – the ugly bruises that adorned his face and body indicated at least as much – he was able to avoid attacks that only weeks ago would have destroyed him.

            At the same time, Akira knew he wasn't quite there yet.  He'd be able to, in the sparring matches, realize moves before Piccolo acted on them, and evade them handily.  Akira even got bold enough to attempt a counterattack.  But whenever he got too close, Piccolo would just turn it up one more notch and beat him senseless.

            Additionally, Akira had proved himself terribly inadequate when it came to ki-manipulations.  He was able to control ki as far as sensing it, and seeing where it fit in with his surroundings.  He was able to see the _web of ki_ that Piccolo always referred to.  He knew it existed, within and around him, but when it actually came to manipulating it, he could not even manifest it in the form of a single spark.

            This drove him to meditate upon it nightly.  Piccolo reassured him that his ability would grow eventually, but for Akira it would not come soon enough.  As good a fighter as he'd become, he had not improved as far as his ki-level was concerned.  And Akira knew that as long as he failed to touch the ki that resided in him his ki-level would never increase, and he'd be ineffective in the upcoming battle against Kold's men.

            Which was what ultimately brought him here.  It was one of those rare days when Akira had a day off from training.  Regardless, he found himself here.  Not to meditate, but to finally come to terms with his ki-ability.

            His theory lay in the idea that he'd not be able to access that energy reservoir unless he absolutely had to.  Only when he left himself no option of failure, and only then, could he succeed.

            The river below him was usually quiet and calm – which made for a great meditation spot – but today, it was coursing with fierce energy.  The rainstorm from the night before had flooded the river; the flowers and the rocks that adorned the riverbanks could no longer be seen beneath the churning water.  Akira knew that there was no way that if he ever fell in, he'd not be able to swim his way out, much less upstream.

            With that in mind, he stepped off the edge of the cliff, weighted clothing and all.

            The icy cold water clutched at him, and Akira's muscles clenched in the harsh shock.  It soaked him, held him, and suffocated him.  He fought back an urge to scream and forced his body to swim.  He pointed his body opposite the current and began to make his way upstream.

            It took tantamount strength to even keep himself afloat.  In an instant, Akira began to doubt his decisions – and in that moment, Akira knew that he'd just committed himself to death.  Fury and panic both stabbed into his brain.  Consciously forcing the panic from his heart, he let the fury drive his determination.  _There's no room for failure now.  Therefore, I have no choice but to succeed.  There is no try.  Now do it!_

            Akira reached deep within himself and searched for that well of energy.  He let his physical form slip from his mind, and for the first time in his life, he opened himself fully to his environment.  While his body fought furiously against the current, Akira forced his mind away from his physical form and concentrated instead on his surroundings.  He felt the energy of the river, threatening to pull him down to the icy cold depths.  He felt the energy within him, the energy of his emotions, of his physical being.  And finally, when he had no more energy, he found it.

            Akira was no longer conscious of his physical surroundings.  Instead, he noticed the ki that was created by life all around him.  He let his doubts flow away with the river, and he finally believed.  He no longer considered the _possibility_ of using ki, but the _inevitability_ of using ki.  Finally, he had it.

            The power that sprang forth from his core filled Akira with warmth.  His vision cleared, and his heart began to pound with unbound energy.  He felt the ki fill him, and when his body could contain it no more, he felt the ki pour out of him.

            Akira understood what was happening more by instinct rather that any rational thought.  He embraced this new found ki and covered himself with it.  It was easy to finally control it and manipulate it now that he had access.  He let every fiber of his being become infused by ki and began to swim strongly.

            This strength was nothing like he knew before.  Piccolo told him that he could tell Akira all about ki, how to access it, how to use it, but that Akira had to come to realize it on his own.  That could not be taught.  Piccolo had shown him the door, and Akira had finally opened it.

            He slid easily upstream against the current, but he knew he could do more.  Akira let more ki pour forth and used it to surround himself.  He glowed with electric energy.  The air and the water crackled with energy.  Akira's heart filled with warmth, passion, happiness, and intensity all at the same time.  After he collected enough ki, he let it explode out of him.

            Surrounded now by a crackling blue-white aura, Akira shot upstream, heedless of the water coursing down against him.  He added more ki and shot out of the water and into the sky, exhilaration racing through his veins.  He had done it.  He had finally stepped through that last door into a new world.


	9. Chapter 8: Prodigy Realized

Mutenroshi was immortal.  He could not be killed by any natural means.  Old age meant little more than just another wrinkle and more things seen.

Time was when he was once considered the most powerful and skilled martial artist on the planet.  After having trained under Mutaito, he took the title as the world's finest martial artist after his master's passing.  Since then, he pulled himself from the public's eyes and found himself a nice isolated island and spent much of his eternal life there.

On his island, he also trained a few martial artists.  Roshi recalled fondly his very first student, Gohan.  He showed little potential, but worked fiercely hard and showed an intuitive grasp of skills.  Roshi knew, if nothing else, Gohan would become a fine trainer for another fighter.

His second and third students were Goku and Kurilin.  As fate would have it, Goku was the adopted son of Gohan, and much of the techniques that he'd taught Gohan was likewise practiced by Goku.  He and Kurilin were his best students, and they never failed to amaze him through their unhindered work ethic.  Although Goku would ultimately progress to leave Kurilin in the figurative dust, thanks mostly to his Saiyan blood, the two always pushed each other to their best.  Goku, especially, exhibited great capacity for learning and even greater power.  In 300 years of his existence, Roshi had never seen such a talent, and he never thought would see a greater talent.

            How wrong he was.

            Kail was an absolute beast.  In the first three weeks of training, Kail had blasted through all the exercises that Goku and Kurilin struggled to complete in over three months.  After the second month, Kail had completed all of Roshi's training.  Hope had personally come over a few times a week while Kail still resided on Roshi's island and sparred with him.  Kail was quickly catching up to even Hope's level.  Roshi had never seen in such a child such potential, all at the age of twelve.  _I don't even have heavy enough clothing for him to wear.  I've taught him all I know and some that were only experiments and he ate them up like so much ramen._

            Roshi noticed the disinterest in Kail's attitude.  He knew Kail still respected him, but Kail often appeared bored.  In the first few days, it seemed that Roshi's program challenged the young boy, but in the space of just weeks, Kail had begun to challenge Roshi's ability to come up with new innovative training regiments.

            And that was what Roshi was doing right now.  He was hard pressed to think up new techniques, although he was almost certain Kail could learn whatever Roshi could think to throw at him and in a short period of time, make it better.  So, he was sitting on his couch in his library, racking his brain to come up with another technique, when he _felt_ it.

            It was a shift in ki, the likes of which he'd never sensed before.  Roshi quickly pinpointed the source and ran out the of house, to the spot where the ki was emanating.

            And there was Kail, holding himself in the air.  He was manipulating the sea water beneath him.  He drew up spires of brine and twisted and contorted them into such complex patterns that Roshi found it hard to even conceive of such shapes.  At the same time, Kail had levitated several pebbles from the beach through the force of his mind.  He spun them in an infinity loop before shooting them off, quicker than the eye could follow, into the distance.  Kail than followed the rocks with jet streams of the salt water.  Each fine stream struck the pebbles, pulverizing them on contact.  He did all of this with not a trace of strain on his youthful face.

            Roshi found himself completely baffled by the extent of the young boy's power.  _For all I know, this child has not even scratched the surface of his true power…_

            Kail must have sensed his presence, because he froze the water and the rocks in the air in their respective position and turned to his sensei.  He stared down at his master evenly, his head cocked to one side in a quizzical manner, his face full of expectation, as if he _dared_ Roshi to challenge the extent of his powers.

            "Sensei?" Kail said quietly.

            Roshi sputtered before finally gathering himself.  "Can you do _more_?"

            Kail's lips curled up in an almost contemptuous sneer as he turned away from his master.  He appeared to be concentrating for a moment before he raised both hands above his head.  Almost disdainfully, he let his hands fall in a downward slicing motion and emphatically spread his arms to the side.

            Nothing prepared Roshi for what happened next.

            Starting at Roshi's feet, wet in the surf, the water began to _split_.  The crevice in the water soon grew exponentially large as the sea separated, pulled forcefully apart by pure ki.  The water splashed up angrily as it tried to fill the growing gap, but Kail gave it no chance.  The gap continued to grow, until finally, the sea was split into two, a deep canyon running deep into the horizon, with walls of water held up on either side only by the strength of Kail's ki.  As Moses had parted the Red Sea with the power of the western God, Kail had likewise done so, _on his own_.

            Roshi looked up at his student – _though only in name _– and gasped in amazement and fear.  Amazement for the prodigious feat achieved on that day, and fear for the realization that when Kail reached his full potential, he could easily lift the whole mass of water on the entire planet into the air without breaking a sweat.

A few days later, Kail found himself standing outside Master Roshi's house, eagerly awaiting the arrival of Hope.  He took that time to reflect on the past two and a half months.

            Kail had begun training under Master Roshi full of hope and excitement.  Roshi, admittedly, ran an extremely tough program.  Kail, in response, pushed himself to his limits and far beyond, motivated solely by the prospect of bringing justice to the monsters who murdered his mother.  He worked everyday harder than he did the day before.  Roshi's house was never want for any food, so the daily schedule was reduced to train, eat, train, eat, train, eat, train and sleep.

            And over the next few weeks, he had progressed quickly through the exercises Roshi had set for him.  Sensei started mixing in some techniques along with the strenuous exercises.  Kail spent day and night learning them and perfecting them and it was not long before Roshi had run out of stuff to teach him.

            Master Roshi worked hard to further challenge his student, but Kail found out soon enough that nothing Master Roshi could plan would even come close to giving Kail any difficulty.  Despite Roshi's best, and sometimes admirable, efforts, Kail soon found himself getting bored.

            Bored and disappointed.  He had hoped Roshi's program would be more difficult.  He wondered why Roshi could not challenge him further.

            And out of that disappointment, grew impatience.  Kail was repeatedly frustrated by the endless wait; the wait for things to come but could not come soon enough.  Kail believed himself to be ready.  He knew he could make a difference.

            The only tolerable part of the wait was the training with Hope.  They had sparred numerous times and Kail knew he was quickly improving.  As good as he had become, however, Kail could not defeat Hope.  He knew he was nearly as powerful as he was when it came to pure strength and ki-capability, but Hope had years of experience in battle, whereas Kail had none.

            But Kail looked forward to this day especially because Hope had promised that they would begin his weapons training.  Hope had given Kail his choice of weapons, and while there was a large and interesting array, Kail had selected the double edged sword, just like the one Hope carried.  Kail's heart raced in anticipation of the new training.

            It was not long before Hope arrived.  Hope was always punctual.  Kail smiled eagerly, as a child would smile in anticipation of his birthday present.

            As soon as Hope landed, Kail raced up to him.

            "We're starting sword training today.  Right, Hope?"  Kail questioned.

            Hope chuckled benignly.  "Yes, we are, Kail.  Are you ready?"

            Kail's grin grew even bigger.  "You bet."

            The two walked to the forest behind Roshi's little house.  Roshi had taken the day off today and had gone out to town, no doubt to visit some adult stores.  Kail had quickly found out about Roshi's dirty hobby, and sometimes hassled him about it.

            When they had reached a secluded area in the forest, Hope bent to the ground and picked up a tree branch about a meter and a half long.  He gathered a small amount of ki into his hand and in seconds had carved broken branch into a wooden imitation of a sword, just over a meter and a third long..

            Hope smiled mischievously.  "Neat little trick, especially if you find yourself in a fight without a weapon and you really need one."

            Hope looked at Kail and tossed him the wooden sword.  Kail looked up at his mentor quizzically.

            "This is a fake sword," Kail exclaimed indignantly.

            "So not only are you incredibly powerful, your powers of perception is also mind boggling."  Hope responded.

            Kail shook his head.  "Why don't I get a real sword?"

            Hope looked at him evenly.  "Because until you are fluent with the sword, you're more of a danger to yourself and you friends than you are to your opponent."

            Eyes filled with indignation, Kail threw down his wooden sword and cried out at his mentor.  "I can do it!  I know how to handle a sword!"

            Hope raised an eyebrow.  "Oh, really?"  He seemed to be contemplating a thought for a moment before he shrugged.  "All right.  Let's see."

            Hope sauntered over to pick up the discarded sword and glanced it over before disdainfully tossing it over to the side.  He walked over to a nearby tree and broke off a skinny, willowy branch, just barely over a meter long.  Nodding his head as if satisfied, Hope drew his own sword from its scabbard slung across his back.

            "If you can catch me with that sword, than you get to train with a real one," Hope said.

Kail looked at Hope as if he were crazy.  "Are you kidding?  I'll kill you."

Hope shrugged.  "You might.  I mean, all I have is this little branch.  But you probably won't even touch me with it.  So, go ahead, give it your best shot."  He nonchalantly tossed the sword to Kail.  Kail reached confidently to grab it, but as he did so, he was pulled to the ground by the sheer weight of it.

            Hope snickered.  "That is, if you can pick it up off the ground."

            Kail glared hard up at his companion.  With great effort, he pulled the sword from the ground and charged at him.

            Holding the sword like a baseball bat, Kail swung to bat the pitiful branch out of the way and slice deep into Hope's smug face.  He missed.

            Hope simply stepped back from the swipe and pulled his branch back.  He flicked the tip out and tickled Kail's ear.

            "How's that feel?"

            Grunting with exertion, Kail heaved the sword up and brought it down in an overhand slash.  Hope casually sidestepped the strike and kicked the overbalanced Kail on the rear.  Kail stumbled forward before catching himself with one hand.  He pushed himself up and faced Hope again.

            Kail pointed the tip at Hope and drove forward.  He thrust forward the deadly blade, but Hope gracefully spun away from the thrust and along the blade and the outstretched arm.  As he completed the spin, he came shoulder to shoulder with Kail, his left shoulder meeting Kail's right.  Hope reached out with his right hand, grabbed Kail's wrist and locked his elbow against his own.  Hope pivoted, sending Kail in a circle.  Kail, driven by the pain in his right elbow, had no choice but to follow.

            Hope stopped abruptly, reached up and grabbed Kail by the back of his shirt with his left hand, the tree branch long dispensed with.  He pulled hard, at the same time throwing his right hand, and with it Kail's right arm, upward, overbalancing Kail and making him fall backwards.  As Kail fell, Hope stepped around in front to face him, and replaced his grip on Kail's arm with his left hand.  With his right, he reached in for the inside of Kail's elbow and punched it, forcing it to break.  Hope followed Kail to the ground, straddling him, his left hand holding firmly Kail's grip on the blade.  The tip buried itself in the ground, and the blade held just inches above Kail's neck.

            "See?  You're not ready yet."  Hope commented lightly.

            Kail only smiled in return.  "But I got you."

            "What?"

            Kail pointed to the tear in Hope's jacket.  "I got you.  Now you have to get me a real sword," he said triumphantly, breathing hard from exhaustion.

            "B… but."

            Kail shook his head.  "No buts.  You made a deal.  I got you.  Now you have to pay up."

            Hope chuckled sheepishly.  "All right.  A deal's a deal.  Tomorrow, you start your training with a real sword.


End file.
